#;boi

[overkilljones]

[SMS: Boi] Can’t make it tonight. 

[SMS: Boi] I’ll send someone else.

[SMS: Boi] Sorry Boi

[overkilljones]

Lad Pile

Michael gives a groan as he passes the threshold into his bedroom, the sound of other footsteps following behind him. He meant to just change clothes, sure, but the sight of his bed is just too much. Collapsing onto his bed is the kicker- he can’t even roll himself over or care that his clothes still smell like sweat from the job they just ran.

“No, fuck it. You’re both staying the night.” Michael says, voice muffled by blankets. ‘I’m not driving anywhere else, you’re stuck. I’m down.”

[overkilljones]

Hey, Gavin! Boi- [Michael tosses Gavin a box, still running past] Catch, Birthday boy!

[begrimedchains]

💏

3. ...goodbye.

 Though he’d peppered the evening with small affections hardly discernible to the naked, wandering eye, but neatly noticeable to the spire of a killer whose hand he’d gently palmed more than once already—splitting long fingers until he could really feel the softer wood between them against his callouses, any signs their parting might be at all gentle as he’d been so far were quickly eroding. When the Wraith’s pale eyes began to emit Ma’s Red Stain, Billy knew their time together would have to resume to, as Phil would often say while disappearing into the fog, “some other time”. This was easier to accept when it was he who bore the Red Stain and hobbled off, happy for the chance to provide for his Shadow Ma. But the Wraith never looked happy about hunting arrangements involving him, and to see his face tighten before he marched off to a newly-spun trial always managed to leave the Hillbilly with a dry and empty feeling in his gut, as if the tender shoots of their time spent together were shriveling up inside him. This time, he wouldn’t let their vibrant leaves curl so easily. The softer thumping of his terror radius, tamed to a calm pace with the Wraith’s company, burst into an agitated thrum as Phil began to turn and disappear in patches of molten gold, signalling yet another hasty depature. “Wait—“

 The Red Stain wasn’t the most pleasant of lights to have roasting one’s eyes, but his lightborn gaze didn’t falter. For a brief moment, he felt as stunned as a survivor caught within its glow like deer mesmerized by an oncoming headlight. Not minding the angry contrast of color if only because it must have helped hide the oncoming flush of a similar shade in his cheeks, he let his hand fall more urgently upon the Wraith’s chest, entangling his knuckles within the tattered folds of poncho as if he believed the harder he grasped it, the slower it would disappear. With a soft sound not unlike the Wraith’s anxious tittering, he rocked from the balls of his heels to his tippy-toes to mash his wet wound of a mouth against what he could reach of the Wraith’s clenched jaw before most of it had joined the fog and left him anxiously clenching his hands as he searched the tree line for signs of the Wraith’s cloaked departure. “G’luck…” Even if he didn’t want it.

   Even if it was over before it began.

[ask-plnt-spy]

“...And if I am? What will you do? But, no. My intentions weren’t to threaten you, nor was I trying to threaten you. I apologize that it came out sounding like I was.”

@ask-rainbow-medic